


Through the Looking Glass

by itsreallylaterightnow



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Balcony Scene, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Peter Parker, Michelle Jones Needs a Hug, Michelle Jones is a Little Shit, Passage of time, Peter Parker Loves Michelle Jones, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Protective Michelle Jones, Windows - Freeform, its me and my whims now, outsider pov, upside down kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29816664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsreallylaterightnow/pseuds/itsreallylaterightnow
Summary: It was just an old window. Like any other window in the apartment complex. It was black, the paint chipping and scratched. The panes were foggy - the kind of fog that could never be scrubbed clean. The outside of the window holding droplets of water stains and secrets; a window with two locks, one of which never quite shut. Outside of the window, was a fire escape. It wasn’t large. One person could comfortably sit on it. It was rusted and creaky, but it did its job. It held stories and secrets, the lives of every tenant, every plant that was placed, and every pigeon that sat upon its iron railings.orSpideychelle's love story as seen from the window of Michelle's balcony.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 22
Kudos: 35





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Helllooooo lovelies! 
> 
> first and foremost! The biggest shoutout of all to the lovely RachelMclacey for all of her lovely ideas and pieces of writing! She was there for the musing and planning of this entire work, and honestly, I may not have written it if she hadn't been! She wrote many of the snippets, gave many wonderful suggestions, and I will always scream about her talent! Give her a thanks in the comments!!
> 
> This was a super fun POV to work with! You will only see what can be seen from the window's pov (I know it sounds weird, but I think the premise works, trust me on this one!) I hope you enjoy this work as much as I have loved working on it! 
> 
> Warnings (contains spoilers):  
> -  
> -  
> -  
> -  
> -  
> Part 1 of this work is happy. Part 2 is... not. Do with that what you will. It involves MCD and the grief that follows. I don't like tagging MCD because I try to keep the surprise, but I always give ample warnings beforehand. This is your warning!

It was just an old window. Like any other window in the apartment complex. It was black, the paint chipping and scratched. The panes were foggy - the kind of fog that could never be scrubbed clean. The outside of the window holding droplets of water stains and secrets; a window with two locks, one of which never quite shut. Outside of the window, was a fire escape. It wasn’t large. One person could comfortably sit on it. It was rusted and creaky, but it did its job. It held stories and secrets, the lives of every tenant, every plant that was placed, and every pigeon that sat upon its iron railings. 

It was a hot and humid day in Queens when the two fumbling teenagers walked into the room lugging an old, velvet couch into the apartment. The girl stood, hands on her hips as she smiled around at the apartment. Most wouldn’t smile at the cracked walls or the scratched linoleum, but this was her first home by herself. An apartment to get her through college. Those were her cracked walls and her ugly linoleum floors and they meant more to her than any impeccable home ever could. The boy stood beside her. Awkward and fidgety, watching her as though he were reading into every movement she made and ever word she said. 

“What do you think, Pete?” The girl looks at him, her smile wide and her eyes proud. 

“It’s awesome, Em!” His eyes scale the room, landing on the black window and rusted balcony. “Oh- look at that!” He strides over, kneeling to the frame and unlatching the two locks. He pushes up, the window straining under the movement before sliding up, allowing the groggy air to filter into the room. The two teens stick their heads out the window, looking out over the city before them. The apartment was on the twelfth story, offering a beautiful view of the city.

“This place… it’s going to hold a lot of great memories, I can feel it.” The girl smiled, the wind rustling her long curls. The boy stared, maybe for a touch too long, just waiting in her beauty. 

“I can’t wait.” He whispered. 

* * *

one year later

* * *

Peter pulled himself over the wobbly railing of the balcony, before kneeling down, letting his forehead press against the window panes. He was a disaster of scratches and cuts, and the pull of exhaustion held him in its grip. He reached his hand up, tapping on the window softly. Michelle stood from where she’d been sitting on her couch, seeing the boy in his suit, she raced to the window. She opened it quickly, kneeling on the ground and laughing. 

“You’re insane! You about gave me a heart attack!” Her voice was light and airy until she noticed the littering of cuts across his body. “Pete - what happened?” The concern that laced her voice was palpable. 

“Ah - I’m alright. Don’t worry about it.” 

“You look like you got into a cage fight with a tom cat.” She said, leaning out of the window sill to pull his mask off. The boy licked a busted lip, his black eye and cut-up face not doing much to reassure her that he was alright. She reached up, her nimble fingers touching his busted lip, their eyes meeting in a gaze that held - like magnets locked onto one another. “I hate that you get hurt so much.” The boy leaned his head slightly into her touch. 

“I’m alright, I promise. They’ll all be gone in a few minutes anyways.” Their tones were quiet. Intimate. The girl handed him her water bottle as she kneeled out of the window, watching as he drank the liquid. For the first time in her life, she was beginning to understand what it meant to feel so deeply about another person that you cared about their well-being more than your own. It scared her, it excited her, and more importantly - she felt like it was taking control of her. But when she looked at the boy - the boy sitting on her old, rusted balcony - she knew she could never have chosen someone better to love like this. 

* * *

It was a stormy day in Queens. The kind of storm that rattled the balcony and window, peeling off more paint and promising to leave more rust. 

The girl sat beside the window, covered in a knit blanket with a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other. She loved the way the wind and rain bounced off the window. Loved to watch as the grey storm clouds rolled and fought with one another. 

She screamed when the boy - in his suit and upside down, hanging by a web - lowered himself down to the window. One hand held onto the web sticking between his feet, and the other reached out to knock on the window. MJ set her teacup on the floor and moved to open the window quickly. 

“You’ve got to stop staring at me like that!” She hollered over the wind and rain. She never thought herself to be reckless or wild. But the storm raging and the silent boy in front of her had her heart racing in excitement. “What?” She asked after his prolonged silence. 

“I couldn’t wait!” the boy called back, reaching his free hand out to touch the side of her face. An intimate touch, one that held a thousand words. 

The girl reached up, grabbing under his mask. She pulled it down, slowly. Centimeters at a time. Raindrops clung to her eyelashes, running down her face as she pulled his mask off gripping it tightly. 

“Couldn’t wait for what?” She asked, her voice loud, but somehow she found herself wondering if she’d even said anything at all. 

Their eyes locked, and she lost her breath in the intensity of it. The windowsill cut into her chest, but she didn’t care. 

“For this.” He leaned forward, their lips meeting. It was a strange feeling, kissing someone upside down in the rain, but she loved it. His tongue met hers as thunder rumbled through the city. Her fingers cupped the back of his head, his jaw, his neck. She was breathless and filled with life all at the same time. 

Peter pulled away, and she found herself fully relying on the window sill to keep her upright. 

“I think…” Her voice was cut off by thunder. Her heart pounded with adrenaline and terror. 

“You think what?” His forehead rested on hers as they breathed the same air. She closed her eyes. 

“I think I’m in love with you.” She felt Peter take in a deep inhale. 

“Em… I love you.” He kissed her on her cheek.

“I love you.” Her forehead. 

“I love you.” Her lips. 

* * *

The night the boy fell onto the balcony was a terrible night. He was bleeding too much. It dropped in between the rivulets of the balcony. He laid on the freezing iron for far too long, taking in shuddering breaths before managing to turn himself on his side and slide - leaving a trail of blood - to the window. He brought a shaking hand up while the other gripped at the gaping wound in his abdomen. He knocked on the window, leaving a smear of blood. 

“Em…” His voice was weak, faint, almost non-existent. 

“Peter!?” She saw the blood on the window before anything else. She shoved it open, ignoring the fact that she’d knocked off her old tea cup, causing it to shatter on the balcony. “Oh my God - Peter! Hang on, hang on!” She raced to grab her phone. “T-Tony? Tony Stark? It-its Peter, he’s on my balcony - he’s really hurt! Please hurry!” 

She raced back to the window, ripping the boy’s mask off. “Okay, I need you to come inside and lay down. Can you move?” She stepped halfway onto the balcony, helping Peter as he managed to get himself halfway up. 

Through some sort of miracle, the two of them ended up inside the apartment. She helped him to the kitchen. 

It was a sad thing to hear. She was crying, doing her best to stay calm as the pool of blood only grew. “Peter - Peter - please! You have to stay awake, please!” Her sobs echoed throughout the apartment. 

“Peter! Open your eyes… open your eyes!” Muffled cries resonated as the bleeding only continued. 

“Michelle, I need you to let go of him. Friday, send scans to Helen. Have the med team waiting on the landing pad.” The sounds of machinery and sniffles filled the once bright and shining apartment. “I have a car coming to pick you up, he’s going to be okay.” 

The man in the iron suit chose to go out the window, carrying the still boy out into the night before flying off. The girl leaned against the window pane, her shaking hands covered in blood as she let her head hang. Salt and iron mixed on the railing. Pieces of a shattered tea cup, stained red.

* * *

“You almost died.” Her voice shook as she leaned against her bookshelf, looking at the boy as he sat on the balcony. He was still sore, still careful. 

“I get that, Michelle, I do. But…” He shrugged. “It's part of the job.” 

“ _ Part of the job _ ? What job, Peter? Risking your life on a whim? Deciding that coming to your girlfriend's apartment, half alive, with a hole in your stomach that would have killed any normal human was a good idea?” Her voice rose in perplexion as she fought to keep her hands steady. 

“That’s just it - I’m not normal! This is my responsibility!” 

“Why?! Why is it your responsibility? Because you feel like it gives you purpose? Because it's okay for you to risk your life as long as the adrenaline rush kicks in? It’s okay for you to die because you don’t have to live with the ramifications?!” She was yelling and shaking and tears streamed down her face. It had taken hours of scrubbing to get the blood off the floor, but no amount of cleaning would erase it from her mind. The terror caused her to say things she didn’t mean, but she couldn’t hold back, not when she knew he would do it again whenever he was given the clear to go back out on patrol. 

The boy stood, his jaw set as he looked down at the balcony. He could see a dark stain of blood there, but he chose to ignore it. 

“You know why I do this. I’m sorry I scared you. But I’m not going to stop. I do this because I have to. Because if I sit, listening to the cries for help while I eat dinner, and I don’t do anything about it, then that’s on me. Those cries plague me, I can’t ignore the people that need help. I have to do it. I try to be careful, I really do. And the last thing…” Peter turned, his eyes filling with tears. “I know what it’s like to watch someone you love more than anything die in front of you. I would never intentionally do that to you.”

Michelle stepped onto the balcony, her breaths hitching as she grabbed his hand and pulled it to her chest. 

“I-I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled it’s just… I don’t let people in easily. And I-I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone before. I don’t think-I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. And that-that scared me, Peter. I can’t do that.”

He pulled her in tightly, the two of them just holding one another. 

“I’ll be careful, I promise. I won’t stop. And I understand that you’ll get mad and scared. We’ll just have to find the balance of it all.” 

* * *

two years later

* * *

Michelle sat on the balcony with a glass of wine. She watched as the sun set behind the skyline. She couldn’t stop thinking about a conversation she’d had with Ned earlier in the day. 

It was two years to the day that Peter had come so close to dying. It was never an easy day for Michelle to remember. A reminder of the decision she would have to make. A decision she put off every moment of her life. The reality she had to face if she wanted to continue down this glorious, if at times agonizing, path.

_ “MJ, I know you love him… but do you think you’re prepared for what Spider-Man means for your future? Peter, he loves you more than anything - but he’s never going to quit being Spider-Man. I think it's literally in his DNA to do all that stuff. But, I hate to even think about it, but Spider-Man is probably going to be an early end for Peter. It's the shitty part of being a hero that no one talks about. And it's not that he doesn’t love you more than what he does, it's just that without his job, he wouldn’t find purpose in his powers. It would kill him. Just - if you’re going to commit to him, you have to be ready for what that means.”  _

An early end. 

While Peter did make more of an effort towards self-preservation on her behalf, there have been, and will always be, times where he shows up worse for wear. unable to speak, unable to walk. And she'll have to do what pains her the most. try to keep him alive all the while holding herself together. 

However, if time played any role, it knew nothing would keep Michelle from Peter. And nothing would keep Peter from Michelle. Except perhaps the inevitable conclusion to his secret life. That has always been difficult for her to come to terms with, to deal with the ramifications of them as they're screaming and bleeding in her face. Yet she knows she will continue to love Peter. To be there for him through it all. 

She took another sip of her wine. Unsure of what she would do. How do you go about it? To live without Peter would be devastating, but to love him with the knowledge that she might lose him? She was setting herself up for failure. But she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stop herself from loving him. 

Her last sip of wine brought with it a decision. She would love him. Damn the consequences. Damn the pain she would feel later. She would love him with everything she had for the time that she had it.

  
  



	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “To the end of time, Pete. To the end of time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this one holds the BIG sad but also - I hope, a lot of beauty and love and gentleness. Warnings are in the previous chapter. 
> 
> Another thanks to Rachelmclacey for all of her support and love! 
> 
> If you want the full effects of this chapter, read while listening to "In Case You Don't Live Forever" by Ben Platt :)

The boy sat on the balcony sometimes when the apartment was empty. He would sit his backpack against the wall, and perch on the railing. He didn’t do much. Just stared out over the city. Likely listening and watching over the city he sought to protect. 

Sometimes he would glance behind him, into the dark apartment. A sad look would fill his eyes. Like he knew what he was doing to her. Like he was standing at a fork in a river, doing his best to hold back the current - but eventually he would be swept under. One way or the other. It was up to him which way he went. 

He would pull out a tiny box and open it - looking at the shining ring inside. A decision. One he knew he wanted. The boy would contemplate his selfishness, the need he felt to have everything he wanted. 

He would close the box with a long sigh, sticking it back in his pocket before standing and looking in the window. 

He knew the decision he was making would not end well for someone, but he couldn’t imagine making any other choice. 

* * *

It was the perfect fall evening when the boy finally asked the question. Michelle came home, dropping her bag on the floor only to gasp - a hand covering her mouth when she looked outside the window on her balcony. 

There he was. In a white shirt and black pants. Kneeling with a velvet box in his hand. The balcony railing was covered in tea candles and rose petals. Her small - once rusted - balcony was freshly painted, with tiny pots of flowers. 

She’d rushed over climbing onto the balcony with him. He took her left hand, holding it gently as he spoke. 

“Michelle - you are the love of my life. I would consider myself lucky to-to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” 

“Yes - oh my God - yes!” They kissed after he slid the beautiful jewel onto her finger. The night consisted of the two of them drinking a bottle of champagne, sitting on the balcony and watching the sun set. The girl would twist her hand, watching as the light from the tea candles danced across the surface of the jewel before she would turn her head to kiss him. 

“Was it okay? Not too cheesy right?” The boy’s voice was low as he kissed the girl’s cheek, smiling through his words. 

“Just the right amount of cheese, actually.” She paused, before looking at him intently - a serious look in her dark eyes. “Thank you, Peter. It-it was perfect. I know, I know this is going to be hard. Marriage is work, and its commitment. We won’t always agree on everything, but I promise to always love you.” She kissed him softly. “What you do - it will never be easy for me to accept that you risk your life every day - but what you do is important. And it's important to me that we don’t end up married, twenty years down the line where I have a husband that resents marrying me because I made him give up what he loved. You love me, and you need Spider-Man, and I am okay with that.” 

The boy stared at her, tears forming in his eyes as he set down his glass of champagne before pulling her into a deep, long kiss. 

“I love you so much, Em. And I’ll love you every single moment of every single day for the rest of my life.” 

* * *

It was just a normal day. They picked a wedding venue, called family friends and talked about their plans for different wedding parties. They laughed over breakfast and cleaned the apartment together. The two chose to keep the apartment, live there together. It held too many memories to just give up, besides - the two didn’t need anything fancier than that at that point. 

The time for the boy to leave for his patrol came - four o’clock. The same as every day. Dusk - when the sun started to set, the crimes began. 

He hopped into his suit, setting fresh cartridges on his wrist. 

The girl was curled up by the window, reading a book. He sidled over to her, leaning down - mask in hand. He gave her a quick kiss. 

“Love you, I’ll be home late tonight. We’ve got a patrol detail I need to be on. Don’t wait up.” 

She smiled up at him. “Okay, I’ll leave your dinner on the counter. I’m ordering thai.” 

“Oh - the best.” He stepped out of the window. “Oh, I almost forgot!” He said - a smirk on his lips.

“What?” She asked, but she was cut off by a kiss, deep and passionate. She leaned into it, her hands running through his hair. 

“I couldn’t leave with just one kiss.” He smirked at her again before stepping back, pulling on his mask. 

“I love you!” She called as he shot a web at a building behind him. 

“I love you more!” he cried as he webbed off into the distance. 

It was just a normal day. A normal day like any other day, but it was the turning point. The tide coming in. The current sweeping him away. 

The decision. 

It was the last time the boy would ever stand on the balcony. The last time he would ever kiss his fiance. The last time he would say that he loved her, or look into her dark eyes. The last smile they would share, the last everything. 

All on a normal, unassuming day. 

The thai food on the counter would never be touched. 

The girl would sleep, soundly in their bed - hers now. She would sleep, knowing that when she woke up he would be beside her. His morning breath would smell terrible but she would kiss him anyway. Kiss whatever bruises and cuts he’d gotten the night before.

She would sleep soundly not knowing that she would receive a phone call at 2:13 in the morning. A phone call from a weeping woman, telling her that something terrible - unspeakable - had happened. 

A phone call that would make the decision for them. 

* * *

She would sit at the window, in one of his t-shirts. Too large for her as it would hang off her shoulders. She would stare at the window and the balcony. Imagining those last moments. She would imagine his smile, their kiss, the way she’d been so certain that her boy was eternal. But love wasn’t a cure for the deadly. It wasn’t a tool to make one immortal. It was a weakness that drew out pain and sorrow. It was a target being painted on your back - a jinx. Waving your hands and crying out to the world that you are finally happy and in love only for the world to say “screw you” and rip your joy away. A magician, sweeping the rug from under your feet in a cruel trick that leaves you breathless on the ground. 

She punched the window - anger raging through her as she felt the hole in her chest expounding - eating her alive. 

She would sit at the window for hours. 

She never realized how many memories a location could hold. Somehow the window always seemed to be the drawing point. The place they sat to talk and laugh and cry and just be. It was their escape, their moment to just be  _ them.  _

She would sit at the window, leaning her face against the cool glass, letting the tears create new stains. Stains that would never be scrubbed clean. A tragic end to a once beautiful story. 

* * *

Grief was a terrible thing. Something that lurched in a corner, sometimes forgotten about, until it decided to launch - baring its terrible claws - as it would sink into the chest of its victim. 

She grieved. Deeply. With wailing cries and thrown bottles. With sobs and kicks and moments of silent staring. 

Someone once explained that grief was just love persevering - but people rarely bothered to explain how horribly it hurt. How that love would suck every ounce of joy from your life. How it made moments lose all bits of happiness when you realize how much better the times would be if that person were with you. 

How the rest of your life, you had planned to be with your person, and now you didn’t have them. They were unreachable and you were alone. 

Her grief was ugly and tired. Movies and books and television shows, they tried to make grief pretty. Like it was a beautiful thing. But it's not. It is snot and crying until your head is pounding and sobbing until you feel like your are going to physically break. 

It was the girl waking up in the morning and turning over in her drowsy stoop - reaching out for the boy’s hand only to find a cold, empty bed accompanying her. The brutal reminder that she was alone, that he was gone, and never coming back. 

It was ugly. If grief was love persevering, then she never wanted to love anything the way she loved the boy ever again. 

She never went onto the balcony anymore. The window remained unopened. A silent reminder of all that was, all that would never be. A shrine to the boy she’d loved and lost. 

* * *

Four years later

* * *

Boxes filled the room once more. This time, being carried away. 

The moving company left, all her memories carried out with the boxes, but the girl stayed behind. She held a simple, black box. 

She walked to the window, for the first time in many years. A window that hadn’t been opened since that last day.

She knelt down, her nimble fingers reaching out to touch the locks. She let out a deep breath, before unclicking them. The sound resounded - echoing in her head as a reminder. 

She shook her head and pushed up, the all-too-familiar breeze pushing through her hair. 

“Pete-” She cut herself off with a sob, dropping her face into her hands. “Peter - I miss you so much. I think about you every single day. I think about the time we had together. I - I love you more than you’ll ever wrap your head around. But - I have to leave. It’s time for me to step away. I can’t stay here and keep moving. Every inch of this place is filled with memories. And they are things I cherish, and I will never let go of. But I have to be able to breathe, and right now - I’m suffocating.” She tilted her head back as a sob tore through her. “God I miss you. I miss your smile, and your laugh, and crying to you, and holding you, and being hugged, and just everything about you - I miss you. I would-I would give  _ anything  _ to hold you… just one more time. One more time.” She took in a shaking breath, before wiping at her cheeks. “I bought this pretty early on… you always told me I planned too far ahead. I’ve held onto it all this time.” She let the object rest in her hand, before setting it on the window sill. “But it's time for me to let it go… not you - I could never let you go. But I have to move forward. I know you would want me to.” 

She stood, pushing herself to her feet as she looked down. 

In the open box was a gold band. It was simple. A single band. But on the inside of the band was a simple line, engraved in a beautiful script.  _ I love you, to the end of time.  _

“I mean that, Pete.” Her voice was soft - a whisper into the wind. “To the end of time, I swear it.” 

With that, she turned - walking away from the window. She got to the old, creaky door and stopped with her hand on the lock. She turned her head, looking back at the window one last time. A sad smile formed on her face as she gave a silent nod. A goodbye to what had been. The closing of a book that was finished. 

She stepped out of the door, ready to start the next chapter. 

* * *

Thirty-two years after the girl last left the apartment, the old building was torn down - the lot to be used as the building site for a new park for the people of Queens. 

The building was demolished, but as the construction workers were digging through the rubble, they found a peculiar sight. 

It was a balcony, somehow untouched by the demolition. It was painted black, a bit scratched up, but in great condition overall. 

If one were to look closely, they would find something scratched into one of the bars.  _ M&P.  _

“It looks pretty solid.” One of the workers would say, before trying to wiggle the piece of steel around. 

“You know, my mom used to live in this building.” The other replied, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. “What if we used this on part of the playground? It could be a cool nod to the building before? An old piece of the city - I think previous residents would appreciate that.”

One of the guys shrugged. “Sure kid, I’ll put you on point for it.” 

So the balcony would stand. A story written into its old bars. A shrine to the love of a couple that came long before the playground. Kids would jump swing from under the railing, pretending to be Spider-Man, laughing as their feet hung above the ground as they remembered stories that their parents told them about the hero from so long ago. 

Sometime, long after the park was built, a woman would come walking down the sidewalk. She would be dressed in an old blue sweater. She would walk across the park’s green grass, a smile on her face as she looked at the beauty that came from the old building. 

She sat on a bench for a while. Listening to the kids playing and reminiscing on the times she’d spent on this location. 

It was as she was about to leave that a piece of the playground caught her eye. She gasped, a hand coming up to her mouth as she walked slowly to the iron balcony, now just a section of the playground. 

She found the third bar on the left side, a quiet sob leaving her lips as she touched the engraved letters. 

She would leave the park with a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in years. No one but her knew about everything that had happened on that balcony, but now it stood. A part of a playground where kids played. Peter would have loved nothing more. 

She would visit the park once a year, on a dreary day. She would lay flowers at the base and talk for hours with herself. Recounting memories upon memories. She would talk about her life, and the people that the boy had once loved. She would tell him all about the wonderful times and the hard ones. And before she would leave, she would press a kiss to her fingers, and touch the iron. 

“To the end of time, Pete. To the end of time.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come say hey on Tumblr and drop a comment or kudos if you feel like it :) 
> 
> My Tumblr is @itsreallylaterightnow


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